


grief

by euriele



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euriele/pseuds/euriele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Missed," Palomo says with each shot. "Missed. Missed."</p><p>You snap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grief

**Author's Note:**

> set during "captains"

You’re angry. You’re angry all the time these days.

Up until the point, you’ve not really felt a lot if you’re perfectly honest. You became apathetic in the face of the war. You had to, really. There’s no room for emotions when more and more of your friends die daily.

But when you find out that the captains are dead, you snap.

You storm out of Kimball’s office, fists shaking and tears stinging your eyes. You make it all the way to your room before you yank your helmet off and throw it against the wall angrily. When it rolls to a stop, you see the spider web crack in the upper left corner of the visor.

You kick the trunk of possessions at the end of your bed and growl. Start pulling off the pieces of your armour and throw them onto the ground without care.

Why are you angry?

Are you angry that Grif is dead? Are you angry at Felix?

No. You’re angry at yourself.

You sat in the base and did nothing, as per usual for you. And Captain Grif died whilst you sat on your fat ass.

You punch the wall until your knuckles split and there’s blood drawn.

 

—

 

You’re training with Palomo one day. You’ve been keeping a good lid on the emotions since you stormed punched the wall of your room. You’re concentrating on the targets you’re trying to shoot, but you’re a bad shot. You miss practically every single one, maybe get in a couple of lucky shots here and there.

"Missed," Palomo says with each shot. "Missed. Missed."

You snap.

Palomo’s not wearing his helmet when you turn around, so you get treated to a full view of the shock on his face when you raise your fist. His lips pull back over his teeth, revealing the gap between the front two. You punch him right on the nose, right between his eyes. His glasses snap in half and he fall onto the ground.

Leave him lying in the dirt with a bloody nose.

Walk away.

 

—

 

"Why did you hit me?"

You glance up. Palomo’s stood in the doorway of your room. Well, you share the room with him. So, it’s his room as well and you forgot that you’d end up having this confrontation when you punched him. You’re sat on the edge of your bunk, running your fingers over your knuckles. The skin’s only just scabbing over.

"Why did you hit me?" Palomo asks again. He’s got tissues shoved up his nostrils, dried blood on his lips and chin. You can see fresh Scotch tap wrapped around his glasses, holding them together desperately.

"You were annoying me," you growl.

"So you punched me."

His voice is wavering, like it always does when he’s on the edge of tears.

"You know, you can be the biggest dick sometimes."

"Listen -"

"No! You really are! You’re taking your anger out on me!"

You say nothing.

"We’re all upset the C-Captains died." You glance up at him. There are tears running down his dark brown cheeks. "Jensen’s in bits, Smith won’t talk and I keep having nightmares -"

You remember him screaming himself awake the night before, remember his wild eyes and how he had to immediately run for the bathroom and throw up.

"But you? You’ve done nothing. You’ve pretended like it’s not bothered you. And you turn around and take it out on me."

"Palomo -"

"We’re all grieving,  _Antoine_.” You freeze at the name. “Remember that.”

He pulls the tissues from his nose. They’re stained bright red.

You watch as he slowly starts to take off his armour and deposit it in his locker by the door. You can’t help but notice his nose is badly crooked.

"I’m sorry," you croak.

Palomo stops.

You stare at the floor. “I’m just… angry.”

"At who?" Palomo turns to look at you, the upper half of his Kevlar suit hanging around his waist. "The Captains? Felix?"

You snort. “Myself.”

Palomo is silent.

"We sat here and did nothing. I always said Captain Grif said I was good for nothing. Well, he was right. I did nothing and he died."

"Bitters -"

Turn away from Palomo.

"It’s not any of our faults."

You give a small chuckle.

"It’s not." Bitters walks across the room and stands in front of you. Don’t look up at him. "There wasn’t anything we could do. They chose to leave us behind."

"But -"

"And we were ordered to stay here." Palomo sits down on his bunk, directly across from you. "And they died. And yeah, it fucking sucks and it hurts. But beating yourself and others up over it ain’t gonna bring them back."

You stare at him. He’s wringing his wrists.

"I’m sorry," you say again.

"Don’t worry about it."


End file.
